


Rapunzel

by enmity



Category: Persona 2, Persona Series
Genre: Eternal Punishment, M/M, Post canon, kinda sad srry rofl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: “I’ll try. But don’t blame me if I find myself thinking of you every so often.”





	Rapunzel

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of messy... but i'm clearing my backlog of old ideas and remembered that when i listened to rapunzel (n-buna) a long time ago it reminded me of this ship, lol

The ache came back, in the first spring after graduation, long after he’d taught himself to stop keeping late hours by the shrine, watching the way the sun sunk into darkness as his shadow no longer stretched and how the days passed without him getting any closer to finding the sort of closure or consolation people in stories often did. Jun had paused at the edge of his bed, the first time, caught by the sudden clenching of his chest, and it had taken a moment to remember why he’d stopped coming back to Alaya Shrine in the first place.

Faintly, as politely as an unwelcome guest could be, came a wisp of pain that needled at the tender memories nestled far too deeply for him to reach out towards and recall, as you might be reminded of an anniversary of a relative's death, or the warmth of a kiss you’d once shared with someone you no longer kept in touch with, through no one’s fault but that of distance and of time. The most insidious kind of pain of all, he found himself thinking, was one that snared you in through traps laid of sweetness and regret, taking the form of what-ifs and maybes.

 _If I’d been the one to run into him first… If I’d grabbed hold of his shoulder and turned him around…_ Maybe things would have been different. But would they have? Would anything have changed? Would he have ended up in a better place than now, an adult balancing the line of contentment, the glaring holes in his memory almost, but not quite an afterthought in the frenzy of schoolwork and part-time jobs? Wasn’t he happy enough now, he’d tell himself in better days, wasn’t it enough to bury the past and all its uncertainties behind him and move on?

On other days, the ache returned regardless.

Of course, no one could tell. If Jun let it, the thought could almost be rueful. But the boy in the red jacket, with his heavy sad eyes, the deliberate way he’d held onto his sword – he didn’t look like he’d pushed Jun away without reason. He hadn’t wanted to be remembered. Would it upset him, he wondered, if he knew that Jun was willing to remember; that some part of him wanted to still, regardless of consequence?

But Jun knew, too, why he’d stopped taking the detour to the shrine, why he’d never sought out to meet Tatsuya again, even as time went and he grew older and his chances withered away like petals off a flower. He wondered: if he reached into the awaiting maw of grief that was the unknown past, would he escape unscathed? Or would he fall inside, and be swallowed whole?

Would any of it matter if he could find Tatsuya there, waiting to keep him company at the depths?

There were no pleasing answers to these unpleasant questions. Most of the time, Jun remembered not to ask. Most of the time, it was something he could ignore. He decorated his windowsill with potted flowers, he ate out, he busied himself with his books and university clubs and few close friends (and then some) he was lucky to have.

If it wasn’t quite happiness yet, then maybe he was approaching it. That was fine by him, he thought, watching the flowers bloom at the start of a new spring; he could afford to wait.

*

But, sometimes –

 _I can’t accept this_ , he’d said, and folded Jun’s fingers back around the lighter, the cool metal of it pressing against his fingertips. _I’m sorry_ , he’d said, _forget about me. Be happy,_ he’d told him, and then he pushed him away.

“I’ll try,” Jun said, whispering to the dim stillness of his room, turning the words over in his mind like the lighter clasped in his palm. “For you,” he said, and smiled wanly at the invisible deity spinning and severing the threads of fate, “but don’t blame me if I find myself thinking of you every so often. That’d be fair, wouldn’t it?”

 _At least,_ he thought, _allow me that._

The silence stretched on. Outside, Jun watched the sky slip, further and further into night, and finally settled to sleep.


End file.
